Farmer Boy (Little House 3)

“You’ll do no such thing, Alice. You know very well the parlor’s just for company.”

It was not Eliza Jane’s parlor, and Mother hadn’t said she couldn’t sit in it. Almanzo thought that Alice could sit in the parlor if she wanted to.

That afternoon he came into the kitchen to see if the pound-cake was done. Alice was taking it out of the oven. It smelled so good that he broke a little piece off the corner. Then Alice cut a slice to hide the broken place, and then they ate two more slices with the last of the ice-cream.

“I can make more ice-cream,” Alice said. Eliza Jane was upstairs, and Almanzo said:

“Let’s go into the parlor.”

They tiptoed in, without making a sound. The light was dim because the blinds were down, but the parlor was beautiful. The wall-paper was white and gold and the carpet was of Mother’s best weaving, almost too fine to step on. The center-table was marble-topped, and it held the tall parlor lamp, all white-and-gold china and pink painted roses. Beside it lay the photograph album, with covers of red velvet and mother-of-pearl.

All around the walls stood solemn horsehair chairs, and George Washington’s picture looked sternly from its frame between the windows.

Alice hitched up her hoops behind, and sat on the sofa. The slippery haircloth slid her right off onto the floor. She didn’t dare laugh out loud, for fear Eliza Jane would hear. She sat on the sofa again, and slid off again. Then Almanzo slid off a chair.

When company came and they had to sit in the parlor, they kept themselves on the slippery chairs by pushing their toes against the floor. But now they could let go and slide. They slid off the sofa and the chairs till Alice was giggling so hard they didn’t dare slide any more.

Then they looked at the shells and the coral and the little china figures on the what-not. They didn’t touch anything. They looked till they heard Eliza Jane coming downstairs; then they ran tiptoe out of the parlor and shut the door without a sound. Eliza Jane didn’t catch them.

It seemed that a week would last forever, but suddenly it was gone. One morning at breakfast Eliza Jane said:

“Father and Mother will be here tomorrow.”

They all stopped eating. The garden had not been weeded. The peas and beans had not been picked, so the vines were ripening too soon. The henhouse had not been whitewashed.

“This house is a sight,” Eliza Jane said. “And we must churn today. But what am I going to tell Mother? The sugar is all gone.”

Nobody ate any more. They looked into the sugar-barrel, and they could see the bottom of it.

Only Alice tried to be cheerful.

“We must hope for the best,” she said, like Mother. “There’s some sugar left. Mother said, ‘Don’t eat all the sugar,” and we didn’t. There’s some around the edges.”

This was only the beginning of that awful day. They all went to work as hard as they could. Royal and Almanzo hoed the garden, they whitewashed the henhouse, they cleaned the cows’ stalls and swept the South-Barn Floor. The girls were sweeping and scrubbing in the house. Eliza Jane made Almanzo churn till the butter came, and then her hands flew while she washed and salted it and packed it in the tub. There was only bread and butter and jam for dinner, though Almanzo was starved.

“Now, Almanzo, you polish the heater,” Eliza Jane said.

He hated to polish stoves, but he hoped Eliza Jane would not tell that he had wasted candy on his pig. He went to work with the stove-blacking and the brush. Eliza Jane was hurrying and nagging.

“Be careful you don’t spill the polish,” she said, busily dusting.

Almanzo guessed he knew enough not to spill stove polish. But he didn’t say anything…

“Use less water, Almanzo. And, mercy! rub harder than that!” He didn’t say anything.

Eliza Jane went into the parlor to dust it. She called: “Almanzo, that stove done now?”

“No,” said Almanzo.

“Goodness! don’t dawdle so!”

Almanzo muttered, “Whose boss are you?”

Eliza Jane asked, “What’s that you say?”

“Nothing,” Almanzo said.

Eliza Jane came to the door. ‘You did so say something.”